


The Set-Up

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: But he's really bad at it, F/M, Matchmaker!Gold, non-magic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: Mr. Gold has been trying to set his son up with the new librarian, but Neal’s pretty sure that Gold’s the one in need of a romantic intervention.Nominated for Best Comedy in the 2017 TEAs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some post or other on tumblr wherein someone mentioned the idea of Gold trying to set his son up with Belle and not realizing that he's in love with her himself.
> 
> It's very short and moves pretty quickly. Belle cuts to the chase pretty fast, honestly. Very, very little angst, though, so there's that.

Roderick Gold jolted awake and sat blearily wondering why until a crash sounded from somewhere downstairs. Pushing himself up and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he gripped his cane and shuffled cautiously to the door. No one had ever accused him of being a brave man, but he was a selfish one, and there were several priceless antiques in the study he refused to relinquish to some vagabond looking to make a quick buck. Shifting his grip on his cane, he took his mobile off the bedside table, dialed 9-1 and held his thumb poised to dial the final 1 as he crept down the hallway.

There was a light shining downstairs, and with the next crash came a muffled curse, and Gold dropped his cane and lowered his phone, sighing in relief. He’d recognize that subdued brogue anywhere: Neal’s accent faded long ago, but it reappeared when he’d had a few too many. And from the sounds of it, he’d had more than a few too many, probably courtesy of August and Graham, his old schoolmates.

Gold continued down the stairs and made his way into the study, where he found Neal staring morosely at the shattered remains of two thick tumblers.

“Don’t move, son,” Gold said, picking up a file folder from his desk and approaching the pile of glass. Neal swayed slightly on the spot until his father had swept the glass shards onto the folder; while Gold was disposing of them, Neal leaned against one of the bookcases lining the wall and heaved a bone-deep sigh.

“Sorry, Pops. Was jus’ tryna get a drink.”

“You sound as if you should be in bed,” Gold pointed out. “Come on.” He looped Neal’s arm around his shoulder and led him down the hall to the guest room.

“‘m not sleepy,” Neal whined, and Gold’s heart clenched. For all the boy was thirty years old and had two inches on him, he could still sound like the wee bairn Gold had carried to bed more times than he could count.

“Then you can just close your eyes and pretend to sleep,” Gold said as he maneuvered Neal onto the bed. “Set an old man’s mind at ease.”

Neal huffed a laugh. “Old man.” He rolled over onto his front and buried his face in a pillow. “Why didn’t she love me, Papa?” he whispered. “Why doesn’t anyone love me?”

“Oh, Bae.” Gold reached out to stroke his son’s dark curls and then, unable to resist (the opportunity arose so rarely now that he was grown), pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “I love you.”

“Snot th’ same.”

“No. It isn’t. I’m sorry, Bae.”

Neal grunted what sounded like a protest, but in the next breath he was snoring, dead to the world. Gold stared at him for a few moments, cursing Neal’s mother and every ex-girlfriend that had broken his boy’s sweet, romantic, devoted heart. In particular, he wished some horrible fate upon Tamara, who had accepted Neal’s proposal and moved into his apartment all while carrying on an affair with another man. It had happened months ago, but clearly the wounds ran deep.

What he wouldn’t give for Neal to finally meet some nice, sweet, honest girl who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. Someone with a rich laugh and a keen sense of adventure. Someone with a tender heart and gentle smile.

And if Gold had suggested his solution once, he’d suggested it a thousand times. Maybe in the morning Neal would finally listen to reason.

* * *

When Gold came downstairs in the morning, Neal was seated at the island and staring into a glass of water as if it held the answers to all life’s questions. He glanced up and noticed that his father was hovering in the doorway, his face drawn tight with worry.

“Stop looking at me like I might die. I’m fine, Papa.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am. Mostly, I mean.” He sighed deeply again. “I’m sorry about last night. It was just...Tamara.”

Gold’s jaw clenched.

“I know it’s over, y’know? I don’t want her back. I don’t even really miss her that much. I just really thought she was the One.”

“You say that about every girl,” Gold said with fond exasperation. He knew his son wasn’t flighty or stupid - he didn’t even date much, at least not casually. But it was true that every time he entered a new relationship, he was convinced he’d found his soulmate.

“That’s because I think it’s true of every girl,” Neal mused, unconsciously echoing Gold’s thoughts. “I wouldn’t date someone if I didn’t think it was worthwhile. I just wish it would work out for once.”

“Well,” Gold said slowly, moving towards the refrigerator, “you probably know what I’m going to say.”

Neal shook his head. “Yeah, I do. Why are you so keen to set me up with her again?”

“Because she’s perfect.” Neal raised his eyebrows. “For you,” Gold amended.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious, Neal. She’s brilliant - finished her Master’s in library science a year early, fluent in French and Mandarin. She’s kind and generous, funny and sweet.”

“Hmm.”

“She’s got a real thirst for adventure, you have that in common. She has a list of places to go and things to see; you could see the world together.”

“Right.”

“And she’s gorgeous, son. You’ve never seen a woman so beautiful up close.” Gold stirred pancake batter in a bowl, oblivious to his son’s twinkling eyes. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t been snatched up already.”

“Yeah I’m, uh, beginning to get that impression.”

Gold poured the batter onto the griddle and turned to look at Neal, who had schooled his features into something a little more subdued. “So?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Yeah, okay. Why not?”

“Wait. Really?”

“Sure. If nothing else it’ll be interesting to meet this paragon of womanhood. We’ll go to the library this afternoon and you can finally introduce me to the woman of - uh -  _ my _ dreams.”

An answering grin tugged at his father’s mouth. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’ll bet,” Neal muttered into his water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold puts his plan in motion and it goes as well as one might expect.

As Neal walked with his father down the main street of Storybrooke towards the library, he thought it was interesting that the older man was fairly vibrating with nervous energy. After all, this was supposedly Neal’s soulmate they were going to see, so shouldn’t he be the one drumming his fingers and fidgeting at every crosswalk and red light?

Perfect for Neal his ass.

For two years Papa had been hounding him to come to Storybrooke and meet Belle French, the woman who had taken the post of head librarian at the Storybrooke Public Library. Not being much of a reader himself, Neal had never set foot in the library on any of his visits from the city, and Gold had constantly lamented the fact that Belle never seemed to come into the shop when Neal was there. Last New Year’s Eve, when they’d both had a little too much whisky, Neal had contemplated creating a drinking game - one shot for every time his father said Belle’s name, two for every time he listed one of her virtues. He’d given up the idea because he didn’t want to die of alcohol poisoning.

He’d lost count of the number of times Papa had tried to set them up over the years, and, seriously, enough was enough. He was going to meet this woman, let her down gently, and then maybe start doing some setting up of his own. After all, Papa deserved to be happy, too, and if he was too stubborn to realize he was in love with Belle himself, he would have to be gently led to the truth. Or shoved towards it kicking and screaming. Neal had to go back to Boston at some point.

He opened the door for his father and followed him to the circulation desk, where a woman with thick brown hair was typing furiously on an ancient desktop computer, her back to the door.

“Good morning, Miss French” Papa said, and Neal rolled his eyes. Of course his father referred to the object of his infatuation by her last name, even after three years.

Miss French spun around, caught sight of the two of them, and _beamed_.

Wow. Papa hadn’t exaggerated her beauty. She was a real stunner, and he meant that almost literally. Those eyes and that smile could stop a man dead in his tracks. Papa certainly seemed to be frozen on the spot.

“Hi, Mr. Gold!” she chirped, and Neal recalled that she was a fellow expat. Australian. “Done with the Dostoevsky already? You just got it! I was sure Crime and Punishment would last you more than a day if nothing else would.”

Papa came here every day? Neal glanced sidelong at his father and was unsurprised to see that he was blushing a bit.

“Yes...I mean, no, I - I haven’t finished it,” Papa stammered, and Neal rubbed at his face to hide his grin. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

Belle’s eyes flickered to him for the first time, and Neal smiled at her.

“Miss Belle French, this is my son Neal. Neal, Belle.”

Her expression brightened even more and Belle hurried around the desk with her hand outstretched. “You’re Neal? I thought I’d recognized you! It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

He’d bet she had.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said, shaking her hand.

Belle’s eyes widened. “Really?” she said, a curious lilt in her voice as she turned hopeful eyes on his father.

Papa fidgeted with his cane. “I, uh, I need to see about a book on cuckoo clocks,” he said. “I have one that no one can seem to repair. I’ll just…” He waved a hand vaguely towards the back of the room and disappeared amongst the stacks.

“Let me know if you need anything!” Belle said just before he vanished from sight. She turned her attention back to Neal. “So, are you in town long?”

“Nah, just a couple of days. Down for Thanksgiving, then back to the salt mines.”

“You’re a graphic designer, right? This must be a busy time of year for you.”

“Yeah, lots of last-minute ad campaigns and end-of-year reports, but I like to keep busy. Keeps me out of trouble.”

“Less time for egging houses, you mean?” Her smile regained some of its sparkle, and Neal grinned back.

“Hey, it was just the once, and it’s not like the guy didn’t deserve it.” Killian Jones, the guy who’d broken up his family and then taunted his father. The time spent in a jail cell had been worth it.

“So I understand.”

“He told you that story? He must trust you.”

Belle shrugged. “We’re...good friends.”

“Yeah, I got that much. The way he talks about you - I’ve never heard him talk about anyone that way. Most of the time it’s name, profession, unfavorable adjective. ‘Regina, mayor, insufferable. Hopper, psychiatrist, meddlesome.’” Belle giggled when he mimicked his father’s accent. “But you? I could probably recite your life’s story.”

“I could recite yours, too,” she said, “but it’s not...I mean, we’re both kind of outsiders here. Neither of us grew up here, which makes us a minority of two, and we’re both a little odd as far as the townsfolk are concerned. A man who doesn’t enjoy camping and hiking and hunting? A girl who spends every spare second reading books bigger than her head? We just sort of...gravitated towards each other, I think.”

“Two lonely souls.” Neal felt a rare wave of guilt wash over him. He had grown up here, and he’d left the second he had the opportunity, even though he knew his father wouldn’t, that he would be left alone in a town where no one liked or trusted him much. Did that make him a bad son? “I should visit more often, huh?”

“Maybe, but I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. He’s so proud of you, and he’s glad you’re happy and doing well. He’d feel guilty if he thought you were missing out on your own life and coming here all the time just to make him feel better.”

“Yeah.” Neal shuffled his feet a little. “So anyway, we always go to Granny’s for burgers at least once when I visit. Care to join us?”

He could tell she was bursting to accept the invitation, but she held back. “Are you sure Mr. Gold won’t mind? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, trust me, he’s counting on it.”

She blushed and bit her lip. “Okay, then, I’ll meet you there in about half an hour.”

Neal looked up and waved to his father, who was hovering behind a bookcase. Papa started and pretended to be looking over the shelves, but since he’d wandered into the paperback romance section he couldn’t keep up the ruse much longer. Sheepishly he returned to the front, handed Belle the book on clocks he’d selected, and hastily escorted his son back out of the library.

“So?” he asked the second they were clear of the doors.

“She’s pretty,” Neal said. Papa shot him an incredulous look at this lukewarm praise, but said nothing. “Seems nice, too. She’s going to lunch with us later, you’re okay with that, right?”

“Oh, well, I...I thought you might ask her to dinner, just the two of you. You don’t need a third mucking things up.”

Neal shrugged. “Dinner seems a little forward when we just met. Let me get to know her a little, okay?”

“Right, yes. So you did like her?”

“Yeah, I liked her.” Neal rolled his eyes at his father’s grin and steered him in the direction of the shop. “Come on, Cupid, show me that old clock you can’t fix. Have you asked August? He’s pretty good with stuff like that.”

* * *

Neal sat in a booth at Granny’s Diner and wished he had a deck of cards or something. Not that Papa and Belle weren’t entertaining in their own way: they’d had a lively conversation about the best hamburger condiments (Papa in the ketchup corner, Belle in favor of mustard), and then they’d debated the merits of e-readers for a while, and now they were deeply engrossed in an argument about whether Oedipus could truly have avoided his fate if he’d been allowed to grow up in Thebes. Neal, though, hadn’t had a share in the conversation in at least twenty minutes and he was starting to feel invisible.

And the way they were looking at each other was just ridiculous. He hoped Granny had decent fire insurance, because any second now one or the other of them was going to burst into flames.

Belle excused herself to the ladies’ room when their burgers were half eaten, and Papa raised his eyebrows at Neal.

“What?” Neal asked.

“You said you needed a chance to get to know her. What do you think?”

Neal burst into laughter. “Are you serious?”

His father looked baffled.

“I haven’t spoken more than ten words to her, Papa. You two have been at it since we sat down.”

Guilt flashed across his father’s face. “Oh, Neal, I...I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be. I’m not upset, I’m just confused. Why do you want to set me up with her when you’re crazy about each other?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! She’s half my age and she’s...well, she could have anyone. She doesn’t want me.”

“We are talking about Belle French, right? The woman who’s barely  glanced my way the whole afternoon and actually laughed at your joke about condiments being the world’s most powerful magic?”

“We share a certain sense of humor, but that doesn’t mean…”

“She reached over and touched your hand once.”

“She’s a tactile person, she touches everyone.”

“Papa…”

“No,” his father said shortly. “Neal, you’re imagining things. I’m sorry I...I’ll leave you to it.”

“Papa!”

But his father tossed a couple of twenties onto the table and beat a hasty retreat. Belle chose that moment to come back from the restroom and blinked in confusion at the empty seat.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Papa just...he had to go.”

“Oh.” Belle sat across from him - Papa had insisted on her sitting next to Neal when they came in - and stared at the money on the table. “I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

“No, of course not.”

Belle was silent for a moment, studying her hands, and when she looked up her eyes were large and sad. “Neal, is it my imagination, or has your dad been acting a little weird today?”

“Just today?” he scoffed.

She smiled a little. “I’m serious. He’s blowing pretty hot and cold all of a sudden.” She gestured at the table. “He usually talks to me when he comes into the library, but today it was like he couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. Things were a little more normal while we were eating, but now he’s gone without even saying goodbye? It’s not like him.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s not your imagination. I said something I maybe shouldn’t have.”

Somehow her eyes got larger and sadder. “You’re not fighting?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s just being stubborn.”

Belle snorted. “So nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You know him pretty well, don’t you?”

“I like to think so,” she fidgeted with a napkin. “He’s an interesting person, and we like a lot of the same things. I know I’m younger and less sophisticated and knowledgeable than he is, but he treats me with respect and that’s important, y’know? And it’s obvious that he has a lot of love to give - he loves you so much and he’s always talking about you. I couldn’t wait to meet you though I kind of hoped it’d be when things were a little more serious...”

Her eyes suddenly flew up to meet his and she slapped a hand over her mouth. He tried not to laugh.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned, burying her face in her hands. “Did I really just say all of that out loud?”

“Yes. Yes you did.” He chuckled as she collapsed onto the table, her forehead meeting its surface. “It’s okay, really. I kind of figured it out on my own.”

“So he’s said something to you?” She looked a little desperate, and Neal realized that whatever stupid unnecessary hell his father was putting himself through, he was dragging Belle along with him.

“About you? Constantly.”

“No, about us.”

“Ah, not really. More like about...us.”

“Us? You and me? But we just met.”

“Yeah, that was his plan.”

Belle looked for a moment as if she’d fallen and wasn’t sure how it had happened. “He...wants us together? This is a set-up? But why?”

Neal shrugged apologetically.

“I thought…” Belle looked out the window towards the pawn shop, then shook her head, her face resolute. “I have to go, Neal.” She stood and strode purposefully out of the diner, and Neal did not envy his father whatever was going to happen next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle takes action, and Neal meets someone interesting.

Safely behind the counter of his shop, Gold fought to regain his equilibrium. Neal’s words had conjured a terrifyingly tantalizing vision of what could never be, and he would need all the dark and quiet and solitude the shop offered to subdue his imagination and shove his fantasies back into the recesses of his mind where they belonged.

In the very beginning of their friendship three years ago, he’d wanted nothing more than that: friendship. Conversation as varied and scintillating as Belle’s was a rarity in this contained, conservative little town, and there was no harm in thawing his icy demeanor for  _ one _ person other than his son. Even if he’d wanted to be cold and indifferent towards her, her warmth and friendliness rendered such behavior impossible. They chatted at the library, joined each other for coffee or the occasional lunch if they were in the diner at the same time, and sometimes walked the length of the main street together on warm days. He’d seen her through one or two brief relationships and - for a hellish six months - one unbelievably ill-conceived engagement. What she’d ever seen in Greg Gaston he’d never quite understood.

His relief when she broke the engagement two years ago had been so potent that he knew he had entered dangerous territory. Belle might find him an acceptable conversation partner - she might even consider him a friend - but she would never love him, and he needed to distance himself. The thought that Neal would like Belle had led to a hope that he could love her, and over time Gold had repeated the reasons that his son and his friend were meant to be together to himself so often that he had convinced himself he had no other interest in her. A little crush, maybe, only natural after spending a certain amount of time with a woman as beautiful and interesting as Belle, but nothing that couldn’t be controlled. If Belle and Neal got together, she would be safely out of reach and he could enjoy her company without saying or doing anything disastrous.

It could, and probably would, still happen, especially now that he’d removed himself from temptation and let them be. But for the moment, he needed to remember what it felt like not to want her so desperately that he could practically taste it.

The bell above the door rang, and Gold looked up to see that Belle had materialized before him, as if called into being by his thoughts.

“Hey,” she said softly.

His hands felt like dead weights at his sides. “Hey. Is everything alright?” He looked behind her for Neal, but she was alone.

“I was going to ask you that. You left in kind of a hurry.”

“I had some work to do.”

Belle’s eyes searched the empty counter and then met his gaze, her eyebrows raised.

“Do you need something?” he asked, wishing she would look away.

“Neal told me what all this was. Introducing us, taking me to lunch, leaving me alone with him.”

“Ah.”

“It’s not going to happen.” Her voice was gentle, her gaze softening. “Neal and me. We’re not going to be together.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I like him just fine,” she gave a sad little laugh. “It’s just that I have my eye on someone else, and I  _ thought _ he had his eye on me. Was I wrong?“

There was a look in her eyes that had never been there before - or he’d never noticed it - or he was imagining it. The woman made his head spin. “Um…but...” Gold took a breath and marshalled his thoughts. “You always said you wanted to meet him.”

“Sure, but I was never interested in him  _ that _ way. I was more interested in him as your son than as a man.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you can learn about a person when you meet their kids, don’t you think? Neal is funny and sweet and...perceptive. He had to have gotten those traits from someone, and I’m pretty sure I know who.”

She was approaching the counter slowly, as if he were a skittish animal that would bolt at any sudden movement. The tone of her voice and the gleam in her eyes were getting harder to ignore. She was looking at him as if she saw something worthwhile. As if she  _ wanted _ him. But that was impossible. He dropped his gaze from hers and twisted his cane in his hands. “Belle, I…” He looked up again and found her directly in front of him, one hand reaching out to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, but that was fine because if he moved at all he might break whatever spell had been cast on her to make her think this was a good idea, and now she was leaning up toward him and pressing her lips gently against his.

She pulled back before his stunned brain could order his body to respond, and her face was glowing a brilliant red.

“Look, if this is coming out of nowhere, I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I’d been fairly obvious about it, but in case I haven’t: I really like you. I think you’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met, and being around you is like...it’s like drinking too much champagne only without the awful headache the next day. I thought you felt the same, but if you don’t…”

With a low moan he reached for her face with both hands - his cane landed against the glass case with a thud - and pulled her back to him, kissing her with everything he’d suppressed and hidden over the years. She responded almost ferociously, threading her fingers in his hair and  _ pulling _ until he whimpered against her mouth. One of his hands reached around to tangle in her curls while the other dropped from her face and gripped her waist, turning her until her lower back was pressed against the counter.

Belle gasped, her mouth breaking away from his, and she let go of his hair in order to push herself up to sit on the counter, her arms pulling him to her before he had time to question what was happening. This angle was much more interesting, as he had access to her neck and the upper part of her chest and a spot at the junction of her neck and shoulder that fascinated him so much she was soon whimpering and clenching her fingers in his hair. He realized then that his hands were now free to roam where they would, and he inched one of them up her front, eager to discover what sounds he could wring out of her with his hand on her breast.

“ _ OH MY GOD!” _

Gold wrenched himself away from Belle, nearly falling but catching himself on the wall behind him. Belle leaped off the counter and grabbed his arm to steady him, then turned to face the intruder, blue fire blazing in her eyes.

Neal stood in the doorway, both hands clamped tight over his eyes, his mouth twisted in what might have been a smile or a grimace. “Please,  _ please _ tell me you’re both fully dressed and... _ decent _ .”

“Of course we are,” Gold snapped unthinkingly.

“No thanks to you,” he heard Belle mutter, and he turned to stare at her incredulously.

“Don’t you ‘of course’ me, you’re the one making out with your girlfriend in the middle of business hours with the door unlocked.” Neal dropped his hands from his eyes and allowed himself a grin.

Before Gold could reply Belle rushed in front of him, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ we’re going to have a real problem,” she warned.

Both men huffed a laugh, and Gold turned to his son. “Did you need something?”

“You mean other than some kind of memory potion or brain bleach? No, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Excellent. You can go now.”

“Go? But I haven’t visited the shop yet and I’m only in town for a couple more days…”

“You can visit tomorrow. The shop is closed now.”

“It doesn’t look…”

Gold picked up his cane and, taking his son by the elbow, firmly steered him out the door, flipping the sign on the way. “There, you see? Closed. Go.”

Neal tugged his arm out of his father’s grip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m gonna go for a hike or a long walk or something. I’ll see you at home tonight.” He glanced over Gold’s shoulder at Belle, who was still behind the counter. “Or, y’know, not.”

Gold growled, but his lips were twitching, and he gave Neal one final gentle shove before closing the door firmly in his face. The lock turned with a loud clunk.

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

Chuckling, Neal turned to face the owner of the voice. He felt distinctly Papa-like, all of a sudden, faced with green eyes and long flowing blond hair, but he felt he recovered pretty quickly. “Yeah, fine.”

“You sure? Mr. Gold can be a bit of a…”

“Jackass?”

The blonde snorted. “You know him? I’ve never seen you around here.”

“Oh, I know him. Too well, I sometimes think.” There was a loud thump from somewhere inside the closed shop and what Neal hoped to God  _ wasn’t _ a moan. “Look, can we continue this conversation somewhere else?”

“What was that?” The woman’s hand went to her hip, and Neal noticed she had a holster there, upon which was clipped a shiny badge.

“You’re a cop?”

“Deputy. Step aside, please.”

“Nononono.” Neal sidestepped to block the door. “Please, let’s just go. I promise you’re not ready to see whatever’s happening in there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her grip tightened on the butt of her pistol, though she hadn’t yet raised it. “Who are you? What’s Mr. Gold doing in there?”

“I really, really don’t wanna think about it, let alone talk about it,” Neal said desperately. “Look, I’m...I’m his son, okay? And he’s been trying to set me up with this librarian for ages but he was actually in love with her and they’re finally getting their act together and I just...really need to be far away from here right now before I brain myself to get rid of the mental images.”

“Wait.” Her hand dropped from her holster. “Are you talking about Belle? Belle’s in there?”

“Yes, so…”

“Oh, thank  _ God _ ,” the woman sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “Honestly, I thought the town was going to have to get together and lock them in a basement or something.”

Neal grinned, but they both winced when something that most definitely  _ was _ a moan reached them through the door.

“Right. Far away,” the deputy said in a pained voice.

“I need a really strong drink,” Neal sighed as they both took a few steps down the street.

“The Rabbit Hole isn’t open for another few hours. Coffee’ll have to do.”

“Sounds great, as long as you join me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m on duty,” she said.

“Yeah, and I just had my innocence stolen from me. I need to make a report, deputy.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Whatever, son of Gold. If you ever had any innocence I’m willing to bet you lost it at a long time ago.”

“Neal. The name’s Neal. And yeah, you’re probably right. So...coffee?”

Her lips twitching, she glanced up and down the street.

“C’mon, Deputy,” Neal wheedled, deploying his most handsome smile. “The sheriff can probably handle whatever heinous crimes pop up.”

“Fine.  _ One _ cup of coffee,” she smiled. “And my name’s Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought Belle might rip Gold a new one, but she really just wanted to get down to business. Not that I blame her, of course.


End file.
